Remember this competition? After the craziness that has been early October, I’ve finally had a chance to chose some winners and send out some prizes! Apologies for the delay with this, but hopefully the winning entries will more than make up for it!

First prize goes to Foxfire Daye from Gunnar’s Hold, with this fantastic Aetherblade combination!

Second prize goes to Grizabella, with this haunting screenshot. Despite being from the EU, Grizabella plays on Tarnished Coast for the roleplay.

Aetriess, also from Gunnar’s Hold, looks fantastic as a princess, and wins third prize!

That said, I couldn’t wrap this up without a few honourable mentions. Unfortunately I don’t have any more prizes to hand out, but these entries are too good to keep to myself.

Chokapika from Arborstone looks pretty in pink with her Quaggan companion!

Neala Wiverflower from Whiteside Ridge came up with this spooky combination – ideal for the return of the Mad King!

Tiny Lotus from Ring of Fire is trying to teach her pink Moa how to fly.

I’d like to thank everyone who entered the competition – there was some amazing creativity on display, and a lot of throughout went into so many of them. Screenshotters, I salute you!

]]>http://www.manaobscura.com/2014/10/12/guild-wars-2-competition-the-winners/feed/0http://www.manaobscura.com/2014/10/12/guild-wars-2-competition-the-winners/Death of a Super-Genrehttp://feedproxy.google.com/~r/ManaObscura/~3/RqcCCmvcjvc/
http://www.manaobscura.com/2014/09/23/death-of-a-super-genre/#commentsTue, 23 Sep 2014 18:32:29 +0000http://www.manaobscura.com/?p=3381Continue reading →]]>The time of the full-fat feature-packed MMORPG is at an end. They are ridiculously expensive to produce, and are regularly met with scorn and disinterest by an increasingly cynical audience. The market has spoken very clearly – these are not the games people want to play. Blizzard’s decision to cancel Titan – an upcoming MMOFPS that didn’t have their full confidence – just goes to show how tough this is.

Publishers and developers are paying attention. Just take a look at the MMORPG release schedule for 2015 – there’s nothing for the traditional genre fan. It’s something I noticed when walking the floor at Gamescom, where all the big MMO stands were for games that had been out for months if not years. World of Warcraft, Final Fantasy XIV: A Realm Reborn, WildStar and Guild Wars 2 on the Twitch booth. But nothing new or upcoming to carry the MMO banner.

Instead, we’ve got a collection of multiplayer experiences heading our way. Evolve, Shadow Realms and Gigantic hope to snag us on the PvP front. Oort and Trove aim to scratch our sandbox itch. And as Bill Murphy pointed out in his editorial, Destiny, The Division and The Crew are showing how soft-touch persistent multiplayer can be brought to traditional genres, providing that social PvE experience in a smooth, subscription-free manner.

The end result? We won’t see another heavyweight MMORPG released by a major studio in the next two years.

Why? Two reasons. Those that have found a game they love aren’t in any hurry to leave it any time soon. Call it fun-based inertia. Meanwhile, those that are on the hunt for something new have become nomadic, surging to the hot new game, only to leave it a few months later. They end up disappointed that it didn’t live up to expectations, or get hooked on that ‘new game’ feeling.

That, and we’re all waking up from the hallucination that the games we want to play now are the same ones we played ten years ago. You know, when we were back at college, and didn’t have jobs or a family to worry about. Where we had more than two hours every few days to squeeze in some game time. When we didn’t have responsibilities in the real world, and so could spend our lives in a virtual one.

Yeah, 2004 has a lot to answer for.

But there’s another, often overlooked aspect as well – the rise of social networks. If I want to talk to people about the good times we’ve been having in WildStar, there’s a massive range of places where I can do that. Twitter, Facebook, Tumblr – some of these didn’t even exist ten years ago, and are now a hotbed of gaming activity. The point is, I don’t need to be logged in to feel a part of those communities any more, as there’s so much going on outside the game. It also means my social experience is much more portable from one game to the next – there’s no dependency on the MMO to keep me in contact with awesome people.

Is this a bad thing? Possibly. I’m worried that we’ll see genre stagnation, as the last few bastions limp on like gundam marching through a post-apocalyptic wasteland. I also think that we’ll see more MMOs on Kickstarter, funded by a desperate audience, then collapse through financial inevitability. Caveat emptor.

So what now?

For the MMO fan, times are going to be tough. Some would say that the MMO genre is being carved up, with the constituent parts being absorbed into other areas of videogaming to create something new. Others would argue that MMOs are stepping back from trying to be all things to all people, and instead focus tightly on a single unique experience that they can polish to a shine. Either way, the age of the polymath is over.

But this isn’t something to cry over. After all, we’re to blame. We choose what to play, and what to spend our money on. And today, more than ever, our time is the most precious thing we have. For a game to grab more than a few hours of eyeball, it has to be something truly special. That’s the challenge facing the genre over the next five years, and a tight focus is the ticket to achieving it.

Firstly, an apology. I meant to get this competition up several weeks ago, but things at Chez Gazz have been absolutely manic. Anyhow, thanks to the generous folks at ArenaNet and NCSoft, I have a small collection of Guild Wars 2 swag from Gamescom that I wanted to share around! Here’s what’s on offer:

How do you win? Simple. I want you to take a screenshot of yourself and a Mini of your choice, looking completely co-ordinated. I’m going to leave it up to you how and where you take it, but I’m looking for imagination here. Be creative!

]]>http://www.manaobscura.com/2014/09/22/competition-win-guild-wars-2-swag/feed/2http://www.manaobscura.com/2014/09/22/competition-win-guild-wars-2-swag/The Value of Opinionhttp://feedproxy.google.com/~r/ManaObscura/~3/t47usDM5cdw/
http://www.manaobscura.com/2014/09/18/the-value-of-opinion/#commentsThu, 18 Sep 2014 11:11:13 +0000http://www.manaobscura.com/?p=3371Continue reading →]]>There’s a whole bag of controversy raging around the internet of late. Of subjectivity versus objectivity, of fact versus opinion, of divergence versus convergence. Who should write about games, what should they be allowed to say, what should even be considered as a game. There’s also been an incredible backlash that has pushed people out of gaming completely, and it’s been horrifying to watch.

Anyone should be free to have an opinion on a game and share it publicly – you, me, anyone. The tools are cheap or free. Websites should also be free to hire who they want for those opinions. Don’t like the opinion, or trust the person giving it? Choose someone else. The number of voices in gaming grows every day, and there’s no shortage of places to find them. But that’s a great thing – gaming culture is growing to include more than ever before. Yes, there’ll be growing pains, but there’ll also be new games to play, new concepts to unearth and new directions to take. Who doesn’t want that?

So that’s the short answer. The TL;DR. But if you want the whys and wherefores, read on.

On Origins

I write about video games for money. Not very much – certainly not enough to do it full-time – but it’s something I’ve been doing for about three years now. Before that, I wrote for myself and blogged for free in a couple of places.

More than likely, I would write about video games whether I was being paid to or not. And there’s a really simple reason for it: because of the feels. The ‘Would you kindly’ moment in Bioshock. The first time I defeated Ragnaros in World of Warcraft, alongside thirty nine people I’d never met. The times when my boss organised his team meetings in Halo 3 party chat, rather than on some soulless conference call.

It’s because I believe video games are the best form of art: one that we are active participants in, rather than experience passively. Because I believe they represent the best possible way in which to understand the complexities of humanity. And because, just as with the early days of film, I think we are only just beginning to understand the potential of the medium.

On Criticism

I think that anyone has a right to share their opinion about a video game, how they are made, the culture that surrounds their creation, and so on. Doing so makes the movement better – some might refute that opinion, some might agree with it, and others might use it to make new, different games. That’s a win on all fronts: gamers get more choice, and games criticism grows richer as a medium.

I don’t think anything deserves a free pass. No game is perfect, as they are created by imperfect beings. But we’ve also discovered that games designed by committee or focus group end up being bland, soulless and uninspired. We want to play games that are fun and engaging, but make us think and feel something as well. That’s the difference between, say, Doom 3 and Half-Life 2.

It’s why I also think that there’s room for both objective and subjective criticism in games. Because there’s a technical root, gamers need to be warned about poor performance (or conversely, graphical miracles). But because there’s also an artistic root as well, there needs to be subjective space. Does the gunplay feel right? Is the musical score setting the right tone? How about the scriptwriting and dialogue? All of these are subjective to a greater or lesser extent.

What I don’t think is justifiable is shutting people out from being able to criticise something at all. You might disagree with their opinion, and that’s fine. But sending death threats to get them to stop? That’s a whole level of wrong. You don’t win a debate by pummelling someone into submission, you do it by having a more compelling argument. The hallmark of a good critic is someone that might disagree strongly with your opinion, but would rigorously defend and respect your right to share it.

This is the nugget: on the one hand we want more choice from our developers. We’re tired of sequelitis, of regurgitating the same old crap with a coat of paint and a new number on the box. Games are expensive, and we want to make sure our hard-earned cash is spent rewarding studios that produce original, satisfying and rewarding experiences. But on the other hand we want to desperately preserve the status quo, for popular franchises to remain the same but get incrementally better. FIFA, Madden and Call of Duty all have their fans, and studios shouldn’t feel afraid of serving those fans with a tried and tested formula. A game that doesn’t win critical acclaim for being unique, original or genre-stretching can still be heavily enjoyed, and you shouldn’t feel guilty for doing so.

On Ethics

I think that the video gaming enthusiast press is, by and large, a fairly benign entity. That said, I do think there is room for more transparency and greater clarity about what is being performed (and equally, who is doing it). We could probably do with more separation between news reporting and opinion sharing, and make that distinction clearer to readers. As individuals, we should probably also be clear about our specialist areas – are we news reporters, columnists, critics/reviewers, or something else?

Generally speaking, people write about games because they share a passion for it. They’re enthusiastic about gaming at some fundamental level – that’s why it’s called enthusiast press – and want to celebrate the good stuff. Even those who come from a cynical or negative viewpoint are doing it because they want gaming and the associated industry to do better – to serve a more diverse audience, to give gamers a better deal, to treat developers less like a commodity, and much more besides.

Take a look at a site like Gamespress and you’ll see masses of press releases every day. They get checked for relevance, rewritten in the house style, and reprinted almost everywhere. A new studio has opened. A new game is coming out. This game is adding that heavily requested feature. This game has notched up this many preorders. These are the weekly platform charts. This is the reality of factual gaming news. Informative, but repetitive.

Gamers have shown they want more than the facts. They want context – has this thing been done before? What is the studio’s history like? Who are the names behind the game? But they also want opinion – can this game be made? Is it likely to be OK, or will become a stench-ridden mess? Hands-on previews, interviews, opinion editorials and reviews all contribute to this, and it’s a perpetual cycle with each release. For an MMO the cycle gets even tighter, as each major content update brings its own flurry of activity.

All this is opinion, and that’s what a large chunk of writing about games boils down to. And there’s a nagging fear at the back of a gamer’s mind – can they trust this person’s opinion? Is their opinion being swayed by shiny swag, or a comfy hotel room, or some other unsavoury influence? These questions are becoming important because gamers are increasingly encouraged to preorder games blind, usually because of some rare Collector’s Edition, or because a retailer is offering bonus content if you do. Miss the boat and you’ll regret it, but slam your cash down on a high priced lemon and you’ll regret it more.

In part, I think it’s why I think livestreams and videos have become increasingly popular. Not because writers are terrible, but because a livestream of an unreleased game allows a gamer to vicariously play the game alongside the broadcaster. The commentary can be entertaining and informative, but it’s not the core of what’s being shared. Instead, gamers are being given more powerful tools to help form their own opinion. Because digital distribution has made it cheaper and easier for developers to provide early access to their games, it’s also becoming more prolific. There are more voices and more opinions than ever before. And that’s a great thing.

All this is a roundabout way of saying that I don’t think there’s inherent ethical corruption in the gaming press. What I do think is that there are a lot more people with an opinion on the games we play, and it’s incredibly naive to believe that everyone will share the same opinion. As more people play games and talk about their subjective experiences, I’m sure that those opinions will diverge further, just as I’m sure there are people out there who enjoyed the second and third Matrix movies.

I’m not saying there isn’t corruption. I’ve heard of outlets charging developers to review their game, offering a sliding scale of advertising bonuses if they cough up. Likewise, I’ve been offered money from publishers to review their product on my blog (which I’ve always declined or ignored). And more recently, I’ve heard of a publisher trying to exert influence over an upcoming youtuber, offering greater access in exchange for some unsavoury requests. These are the practices we should be trying to stamp out, as they actively harm the root of what gaming is about – the celebration of fun.

On Clarion Calls

This pretty much begs the question: if I think the gaming industry can do better, why am I not lending my voice to the public and very vocal movement? In my mind there are a number of reasons. Firstly, it is very difficult (if not impossible) to separate the part of the movement that is focused on improving the industry, from the part that’s focused on hounding people out of the industry completely. Silencing voices through fear and intimidation is not something I support. You might disagree vehemently with something a critic has to say, but they absolutely have a right to say it. If you don’t like it, don’t read it. Have a better, more compelling argument, rather than a louder megaphone to shout them down with.

The second reason is that the movement has no clearly defined goals. Better ethics? Yes, but how? Most sites have an ethical policy that contributors must adhere to. If they don’t, ask for one. If they do but you feel it’s insufficient, request changes and explain why. If writers aren’t adhering to it, point it out to them. But ultimately, if an outlet does not hold your trust, the simplest thing to do is walk away and replace it with one that does. If you feel that none of them do, start up your own. Giant Bomb and Rock, Paper, Shotgun both started out as a group of people wanting to express their passion in a particular way, and gained a following as a result. It’s happened before, it can happen again.

Thirdly, I’m concerned that the movement is being co-opted by people who do not have gaming’s interest at heart, but rather want to use it to further their own agendas, goals and ideals. I find this latest development even more alarming, and I fear that it will destroy more lives and careers before it ends.

On Writing

As long as games are being made, I’ll keep having – and sharing – my opinions about them. That includes how they’re made, the people that make them, and the societal climate that influenced their genesis. It means that I’m interested in every part of a game’s DNA, rather than just the end result we install on our PCs or slap in our consoles. But it also means that I don’t feel an obligation to be universally congruent: I can be strongly against gun ownership, yet still love shooting people in the face in Team Fortress 2. A doesn’t necessarily exclude B from existing.

I’ve also caught flak for my opinions. Some people disagree with them, or would like me to be more cynical or critical, and that’s fine. I’ve found that the key part is to back opinion up with examples, as they show where a particular opinion originated from. I’ve also been called a shill (and worse) by people who disagree with my opinions, but find it easier to take shots at me rather than argue against what I’ve said. During the 2011 England Riots, one particular individual was desperately circulating my address in the hope they’d attack my home. Unsurprisingly, I took issue with that.

Ultimately though, this isn’t about me. This is about other people. About gamers that have always been gaming, but have only recently found their voice about the games they play. About people who want to join in with gaming, but have always felt like an outsider looking in. About those who look at games in an unusual way, or feel unsatisfied with what gaming currently offers. This isn’t about gaming shifting away from what is made and enjoyed by millions already, but about gamer culture growing wider and embracing more concepts than ever before. It’s not about acting as gatekeepers on what should be considered a game, but celebrating games in all the forms it’s found in.

There will be changes and growing pains. I’ve been blasting away for thirty three years and bore witness to a few, and have no doubt I’ll see more. But I still believe it’s a utopia worth striving for.

]]>http://www.manaobscura.com/2014/09/18/the-value-of-opinion/feed/0http://www.manaobscura.com/2014/09/18/the-value-of-opinion/The High Price of Foundinghttp://feedproxy.google.com/~r/ManaObscura/~3/Cyh0XM3g5rs/
http://www.manaobscura.com/2014/09/10/the-high-price-of-founding/#commentsWed, 10 Sep 2014 21:52:06 +0000http://www.manaobscura.com/?p=3365Continue reading →]]>I have a concern, and it’s about the high price of MMO ‘founders packs.’ For a strong title that’s still early in development, it’s a great way to raise funds and bring in eager gamers to test the game out. But the status of being an early adopter comes with a cost, and it’s usually measured in dollars. I’ve seen studios charge as much as $150 to get into the alpha of a free-to-play title.

Fundamentally, that feels wrong. With an unseen and un-previewed title, the risk for buyer’s remorse is huge. More importantly, however, I don’t think it’ll result in the right mix of testers that will hammer content hard without trying to buy their way around a problem, usually through premium currency tokens. That might be the kind of game that the studio wants to make, but my experience tells me there are better ways to persuade players to part with their cash.

The most common strategy I’ve seen used is where higher prices are charged for earlier access. Pre-alpha costs $150, alpha costs $100, closed beta is at $50, and open beta is free. The bigger packs come with more in-game items and premium currency, but little else besides. It rewards those cash-rich players that can risk that much on a game they might only play once, while hindering the cash-poor but time-rich players that would be a great testing asset.

What would I propose? Glad you asked. Basically, it’s a blend of the existing methods we already see, and the best of Kickstarter. Crucially though, it also lets players trade up – if they like what they see, they can pay more, unlock more, and get themselves a bargain. It reduces the risk on the player, but rewards the developer as well. As an example, imagine there’s a steampunk sandbox MMO called Cogsworld, and it’s just about to hit alpha. Here’s how I’d see it playing out:

$20 – Tourist Visa: Limited to 1000 – The Cogsworld Tourist Office only hands out a limited number of visas every year, so grab one before they run out! A stipend of 200 Platinum Cogs is included

$50 – Resident: Limited to 2000 – Buy a green card and the city of Cogsopolis will grant you numerous perks, including 600 Platinum Cogs to get you started.

$100 – Nobility – As a member of one of the Cogsworld Nobility, you are always welcome. Your inheritance of 1500 Platinum Cogs will be waiting for you at the Bank of Cogsopolis.

$200 –Upper Crust – Part of the Cogsworld Elite, your family has amassed a fortune of 3000 Platinum Cogs. In addition, you will be sent a real-life pennant featuring the Cogsopolis Coat of Arms, and real-world versions of the Cogsopolis currency.

All of these are just rough examples – the costs are roughly what I’d charge, but the limits and rewards are completely flexible.

On top of that, I’d allow players to buy premium currency from an item store and exchange it for regular currency on the trading post, giving those cash-poor players a way to earn extra Platinum Cogs simply by playing the game at a rate that’s set by the market itself. Finally, all currency would be reset at the end of open beta, and reassigned to the original players as part of an overall server wipe. The ability to trade would also exist in the live game.

Having this run through beta will, in itself, generate some interesting data:

How much/how long does each bracket play?

Do players from each bracket drop out/give up at similar points, or is a group more committed?

When do players decide to upgrade their package, and what persuaded them to do it?

What bracket is more involved in the community, either championing the game or providing helpful feedback?

All of this can help the development team to understand if their actions have meaningful impacts on the playerbase. For a free-to-play title that’s reliant on those with large and small wallets, it also gives them a chance to balance out reception across the spectrum.

Here’s the other thing as well: as Cogsworld edges closer to launch, the limitations on those first two packs can be dropped, but the prices increased/adjusted to the final launch packs. Essentially, players are getting a discount for joining early, rather than being charged a premium.

That said, monetization is an ongoing discussion. Is this the kind of model you’d like to see more of, or would you prefer a different form of founders pack? Maybe you’re happy with the status quo? Whatever your opinion, sound off in the comments.

]]>http://www.manaobscura.com/2014/09/10/the-high-price-of-founding/feed/1http://www.manaobscura.com/2014/09/10/the-high-price-of-founding/WildStar Swag Competition – The Winners!http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/ManaObscura/~3/eW-Hc7JXmzQ/
http://www.manaobscura.com/2014/09/09/wildstar-swag-competition-the-winners/#commentsTue, 09 Sep 2014 11:41:47 +0000http://www.manaobscura.com/?p=3263Continue reading →]]>A few weeks ago, I ran a competition to win some delicious WildStar swag that I’d managed to bring back from Gamescom. After being flooded with entries (my inbox is still trying to recover), I was really impressed with both the quality of entries, and by how much people said they had fun doing it. Picking winners has been tough, but I’ve eventually managed to select some. So, without further ado, here they are!

In first place is Elthuria from Lightspire, with this snazzy spellslinger!

In second place is Zoui, with this awesome Mordesh!

And in third place is Aecius with this sharp Cassian!

There were also seven runners up, each winning a WildStar Gamescom loot code. These were Lady Annieloy, Kearns, Mashakey, Odin, Farley, Jay and Kaboom!

Lady Annieloy

Farley

Jay

Kearns

Kaboom

Mashakey

Odin

Once again, thanks to everyone for taking part – I wish I had prizes for all of you! Just to show how tough it was, here’s a selection of other entries we received. Enjoy!

Thanks to the very generous people at NCSoft and Carbine Studios, I managed to make it back from Gamescom with a sack full of delicious WildStar swag! But, rather than keep it to myself, I wanted to share it with you fine folk. Here’s what’s on offer:

First Prize: Plush Rowsdower & Gamescom Loot Code

Second Prize: Blank Spiral-bound Book & Gamescom Loot Code

Third Prize: Rowsdower-head phone cleaner & Gamescom Loot Code

Seven runner-up prizes of a Gamescom Loot Code

The loot code itself contains a number of in-game perks and items, including:

Fancy-Pants Top Hat

Gamescom Purple Dye

Title: Showstopper

Fancy Table housing item

For images on how these items look, check out the WildStar Core article covering them in detail!

To be in with a chance, simply send me a screenshot of your character looking their fanciest! Be creative with costumes, diligent with dyes, and don’t forget to use lighting and setting to emphasise your look! Send your emails to me@gazimoff.com and I’ll look them over! And you can always ping me on twitter at @Gazimoff if you want to confirm that I’ve got your entry.

The closing date is Friday, 5th September at Midnight BST (UK time). Any entries received after that will be discarded.

Back in October 2013, I quit World of Warcraft. After a year or more of playing action-focused MMOs like Guild Wars 2, TERA, and WildStar, Blizzard’s MMO felt slow and dated. I’d developed a taste for a newer, more active style of combat, and felt that a return to hotkey bashing was just boring.

This was actually the third time I’d quit: my first time was partway into Cataclysm, when the long wait for new content coerced me into reconsidering my subscription. I returned for Mists of Pandaria, only to quit again once I hit level cap, after I discovered an endless sea of daily quest grinds waiting for me. My final return was for the Timeless Isle update, where friends tried to persuade me into gearing up and playing again. But, by that time, my opinion had been thoroughly tainted, and I only lasted a few months before cancelling again.

That said, Blizzard always had a way of drawing me back in: freshly baked lore. I’m a sucker for a good story, and I’d come back time after time to explore what each new expansion had to offer. Of course, Warcraft’s monolithic pace of updates meant that other activities needed to fill the void – social, PvP, raiding – anything that could give me a reason to log in night after night. If you look over the history of this blog, I’ve no doubt you’ll find more.

This time, I won’t be going back. For the first time since World of Warcraft was released, the story doesn’t interest me.

When I originally signed on for WoW, I felt that there was an epic storyline unraveling in front of me. It was a tale of heroes, battling against impossible odds against a time-hardened enemy. It was a story of courage, defiance, and spirit. The world Blizzard had created fired the imagination of millions of players, led to the establishment of an amazing blogging collective, and helped me discover many amazing, opinionated people.

Today, Warlords of Draenor comes as a disappointing story update, taking us across lands that we’ve already seen, just at a different point in time. It squanders the attention of the audience, saying “Hey, I know you want to get on with the serious business of Argus, Xoroth and the final defeat of the Burning Legion, but we want to indulge ourselves on a whimsy.” Instead of continuing with the arc that they’ve had in motion for years, WoW’s creative team want to go back in time and find out what happens if one of the most crucial points of history went a different way. It’s a thought experiment made into an expansion, an indulgence of minds that should know better.

This indulgence might be symptomatic of wider issues with the creative team at Blizzard, the result of which is that many former fans feel excluded from a world they grew up with. For me, it offers a story that I’m no longer interested in. My line of Collectors Editions will end with Mists of Pandaria, and might someday resume with future expansions that actually push the story forward. Right now though, it seems like Warcraft is trying to jump the shark.

My gut feel is that Warlords of Draenor is brought about by two merging desires: to delay ‘ending’ the arc while millions of players are still interested in what’s going on, and to explore the already-rich culture that Blizzard has built up around their orcs. The result is an expansion that’s been described to me as “Dudebros of Draenor,” alienating small but significant groups of fans in the process. Not only is it disappointing, but it’s also unnecessary, with other arcs emerging as one ends.

If there’s anything that I hope comes from Warlords of Draenor, it’s that the studio learns from the experience. That it brings in a respect for the players and fans that choose to spend their lives in Azeroth. That a humbler Blizzard emerges, devoid of the aloof arrogance that has been seen of late. That a new dialogue opens up where player concerns are addressed, rather than being dismissed by a corporate machine. These are all core skills that the studio used to be very good at, but which – just like with the story – they seem to have lost their way.

Time will tell if Warcraft manages this – and I have every hope they will – or, like Happy Days, the shark-jumping moment is just the beginning of the end.

After blogging about MMOs for the best part of two years, I’d landed my first paid writing gig, producing features and the occasional bit of news for ZAM. It was a dream-come-true for me; a chance to learn how to create professionally, and to put those creations in front of a huge audience. I was alive with innocent excitement. The Editor-in-Chief at the time, Christopher Tom (now doing a superb job over at Riot), introduced me to the team.

Including Judy Freeman, the copy editor.

I was paranoid. Would my words be up to scratch? Would my distinctly British sense of humour translate across the ocean? Would my eccentric idioms be struck down by the stern gaze of this unknown entity? I needn’t have worried. In her own words:

As I see it, my job is to make my writers look great so I polish and burnish. My goal is to forever remain invisible to the reader. If he/she can see my work I have failed. I will never ask you to write in my style but will do everything I can to make yours glow.

Writers often say that they write for an audience, and mine was Judy. Over the course of a year and a half, I’d try out ideas on her. Test the waters, see if something worked. Sometimes it was a huge success, like the time I wrote a preview entirely using an in-game narrative. Other times it ended up being redrafted and refined, like some of my very first interviews. But she was always there, being encouraging and supportive. I never had much confidence in my own ability, feeling like a pretender, but Judy lent me hers.

She also taught me a lot about American English. People stateside are never keen, but they are sometimes eager. Groups of people – teams, corporations, studios – are singular, not plural. Drop the u here and there, slide in the z occasionally, and it all works. Even if she had to correct me regularly. There were the times when I was scrambling to meet a deadline or embargo drop, and she’d work late into the night to have it ready for publication in the morning.

Even after I moved on to pastures new, we still caught up occasionally. Sometimes by Skype, sometimes by email, just to shoot the breeze. She’d tell me what she thought of Downton Abbey, and I’d grimace inside at what she’d think of the UK as a result. But it was all good-natured. She was still working away with her collection of red pencils, sharpening articles as an unsung hero.

Last week, Judy died. Cancer has robbed the world of a good friend, mentor and muse. I have no words – and she’d probably laugh and gently mock me – but grief and loss. She touched almost everything I wrote, but her influence on me went far beyond it. Judy made me think more about the craft of choosing and placing words together than anyone.

Judy had been at ZAM/Wowhead for over 5 years, with countless writers on numerous games. It’s staggering to think just how much she worked on, yet always being fresh, inquisitive and passionate about the content she pruned and polished. I missed her when I moved on, and I miss her even more now.

I’ve never wanted to wash my hands after playing an iPad game. That is, until I’d played Luxuria Superbia. At first glance it reminded me of rhythm roller-coaster Audiosurf, although perhaps with a seedy seventies vibe. The truth, it turns out, was even more peculiar, with my fingers playing as unwitting servants to the sultry demands of a digital flower.

It began innocently enough. I was tasked to nurture a garden, encouraging the various plants to grow into vibrant, proud specimens. With a few careful pokes and prods, petals changed from a lifeless white to intense red, pulsating rhythmically. As I caressed the inner walls of what I thought was some sentient tulip, it started to plead with me. It told me of yearning, of aching to be touched in just the right way. There was no promise of a high score or secret unlock, just the desperate desires of this electronic eucharis.

In order to satisfy as much of this petulant plant as possible, I started probing with both hands, my fingertips dancing across the screen in response to the exuberant textual encouragement. The flustered fauna guided me, begging to be teased yet desperate to reach a peak. And here I was, oblivious, yet eager to see this kinky kaleidoscope to completion if only to discover what happens.

Then, the inevitable. My iPad flooded in a cacophony of sound and color, the euphemistic entity demanding to be tapped rapidly in all manner of bits and bumps, before finally giving out and fading to white.

It told me the experience was magical. At that point, the penny dropped. My iPad had manipulated me into feeding its carnal desires. Disturbed, it slipped from my grasp, clattering onto the wooden table beneath it.

Unprepared, Luxuria Superbia manages the same trick that Bioshock pulled off some six years ago. Its demands and instructions are in plain sight, but their significance is masked until a crescendo has built and a plateau reached. “Would you kindly gratify the sensual cravings of a mysterious plant,” it asks, in much the same way as Atlas-Fontaine would steer you around Rapture.

Normally, the unmasking would ruin the effect, but Superbia manages one final trick. Its true purpose revealed, more complex flowers arrive to clamor for your sweet caress. It’s not clear if your role is gardener or harem master to some horticultural harlots, but the direction is clear: if you wish to bring color to every corner of this arboretum, be prepared to have your digital dexterity repeatedly tested. It’s a feat that 2K Games never managed with their underwater escapade, although that may be a mercy.

Luxuria Superbia is a unique experience, and one I’d tentatively encourage. Just be prepared for a lot of poking, prodding and patience before the eventual payoff. Like so many things in life and love, this is one thing that refuses to be rushed.